


Calling out for somebody to hold tonight

by alterocentrist



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 14:46:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8756749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alterocentrist/pseuds/alterocentrist
Summary: What happens when two very independent people realise that they're starting to build a life together?An epilogue to "Let's Start Right Now".





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Let's Start Right Now](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8260730) by [alterocentrist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alterocentrist/pseuds/alterocentrist). 



Nice was a city for mornings, but it took more than a change of location for Carmilla to alter her habits. Besides, she had just finished filming a TV series _and_ going on a European press tour for her new film. After a ten-hour junket in London, she flew to Nice, went straight to Mattie’s house—which she had to herself—and slept for fourteen hours.

She managed to get herself out of bed and out the door by ten o’clock in the morning on her third day. She got into Mattie’s silver Audi station wagon and drove to the airport. She parked the car and walked to the arrivals section. She didn’t have to wait long until Laura walked through the doors, wearing a backpack and pulling a suitcase behind her.

“Laura!” Carmilla called out.

Laura’s head turned at the direction of Carmilla’s voice, and her face broke out into a radiant smile. She all but ran to where Carmilla was, letting go of her suitcase so she could throw her arms around her. “Carm,” she sighed into Carmilla’s ear.

Carmilla held Laura closer. They hadn’t seen each other in person for two and a half months, so she couldn’t help but marvel at the familiarity of Laura—her voice, her smell, and the warmth of her body pressed against Carmilla. “Hi,” she whispered. “How was your flight?”

Laura took a half-step backwards but kept her arms around Carmilla’s neck. “Long and a little bit stressful.” She refused to let Carmilla pay for even part of her plane tickets to Nice, so she settled for an inexpensive flight that went via London. “Just take me home,” she said. “I want to make the most of these three weeks.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Carmilla said, smirking, though she couldn’t quite believe that she was about to spend an uninterrupted three weeks with the girl she loved the most. No managers, no students, and no dads.

“Carm!” Laura admonished, clearly understanding the ideas behind Carmilla’s smirk. “What I need right now is a shower and a hot meal.” She reached for her suitcase behind her. “Let’s go?”

“Yup,” Carmilla said. She laced her fingers with Laura’s free hand, and together, they walked out to the parking lot, stopping in front of the Audi.

“W-wait a minute.” Laura was staring at the car, which had been impeccably cleaned and detailed shortly before Carmilla’s arrival. “Is this yours?”

Carmilla unlocked the car to open the trunk. “Well, it’s not mine, but it’s the car we’re using,” she said.

“The only people in Toronto who own Audis are –”

“The corporate douchebags?”

“Yes,” Laura said. “You didn’t rent this, did you? We had a budget!”

“No, it’s Mattie’s,” Carmilla said. She gestured at Laura’s suitcase, and Laura pulled it along and helped her lift it into the trunk.

“This trunk is fancier than my entire car,” Laura said.

“That’s Mattie for you. She used to have a more expensive car in Vienna, until she decided she didn’t want to live there permanently,” Carmilla said. “Now, get in. You can drive a manual, right? Perhaps you can drive this later.”

Laura’s eyes lit up. “Seriously?”

Carmilla shut the trunk door. “Sure, Mattie won’t mind,” she said. They sat inside the car and Carmilla watched as Laura marvelled over the interior. “Just so you know, this kind of car is not really my style. I much prefer the one you have.” She started the engine and couldn’t help side-eyeing Laura when she giggled. “God, Hollis,” she said. “If you like the car so much, why don’t you go marry it?”

“Don’t tempt me, Karnstein,” Laura said.

The original plan for their vacation had been to spend two weeks in Spain, but since Laura had insisted that they would divide the expenses equally, their budget was limited. Fortunately, Mattie was in Berlin in the middle of production on a film, so she had offered her house in Nice. With no accommodation costs to pay, they were able to add on another week. Sure, they were effectively confined to Nice, but the most important thing was that they had time together.

If Laura had been impressed with the _car_ , she was even more impressed with Mattie’s house. At least Carmilla understood this reaction. It was a terraced house in an older neighbourhood, but Mattie had the interior renovated to match her 21st century sensibilities. Carmilla wouldn’t call it ‘contemporary’ by any means—Mattie still preferred a more classic style—but it made the house more comfortable, and the upkeep easier.

Carmilla took her for a short tour around the house, and then she pulled Laura’s suitcase towards her bedroom. “And this is my bedroom,” she said, pushing the door open so that Laura could get a better view. “Well,” she shrugged, “it’s the bedroom I stay in when I’m here.”

Laura stepped inside. “This is nice,” she murmured. “Relaxing.”

“You think?” Carmilla asked. The room was intended to be as distraction-free as possible, with its queen-sized bed, nightstand, and wardrobe. She watched as Laura approached the window to peer out of it. The window looked out towards the town, as opposed to Mattie’s bedroom, which had a view of the beach. “Hey, I thought you wanted to eat,” Carmilla said. “I went shopping yesterday. Maybe I could fix you something?”

“Sure, in a sec.” Laura sighed at the view, before turning around and walking back towards Carmilla. Her arms circled Carmilla’s torso. She buried her face in Carmilla’s neck. “God,” she breathed. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Carmilla smiled as Laura’s breath tickled her skin.

“We’re gonna have so much fun,” Laura said. Her hands started moving slowly across Carmilla’s back and sides.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Laura said. Her hands slipped under Carmilla’s tank top and found purchase on the warm skin of Carmilla’s hips. She raised her head and leaned in close to Carmilla, their lips all but touching. “Starting right now,” she whispered. She pressed her lips against Carmilla’s, and their kisses were languid, their breaths even.

Until they weren’t.

* * *

The sound of her front door creaking open jolted Laura awake. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. It was the middle of the night. The door clicked shut, and then there were light footsteps.

Laura held her breath. Thoughts raced through her mind: did she lock all of her locks? Would the burglar realise that she didn’t have much in the way of valuables? Was the burglar a murderer too? The footsteps were getting louder. Laura grabbed her phone and was about to dial 911 when her bedroom door slowly swung open.

“Laura. Did I wake you?” Carmilla stood sheepishly at the doorway. “I told you you didn’t need to stay up for me.”

“Carmilla!” Relief washed over Laura. “I forgot you were coming.” That was phrased inaccurately. It wasn’t that she _forgot_ that Carmilla was going to be in Toronto. She just forgot that her flight was coming in at an unholy hour.

“What? But we were messaging earlier when I was at the airport,” Carmilla said.

“I know, I know, but I was still at school then. I had a newspaper meeting. The kids are getting the first issue out for the year. A lot of them are new to this, so it was hectic and I kinda couldn’t think about anything else,” Laura said. She patted the space in bed next to her. “Come here. How was the flight over?”

“Hang on.” Carmilla undressed and threw her clothes into Laura’s laundry basket. She opened the drawer Laura had set aside for her and slipped on a pair of shorts and a baggy t-shirt. Then she got under the covers. “Okay, I understand how you could’ve forgotten, but does that mean that you thought your apartment was being broken into?” she asked.

“Well, yes.”

Carmilla cupped Laura’s cheek with her hand and kissed her on the forehead. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t want to wake you.” She kissed her again, this time, on the lips. “And I didn’t mean to scare you either.”

“I don’t scare easily,” Laura said.

“Oh, yes you do,” Carmilla teased.

“I do,” Laura admitted. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? How was the food on the plane?”

“It was average, but it did the job,” Carmilla said.

Laura raised an eyebrow. “Of making you lose your appetite?”

“Yeah, probably,” Carmilla said. “I might go out and get a glass of water in a minute.”

“Okay. You should’ve flown business class,” Laura joked. She knew Carmilla wouldn’t fly economy unless she really had to. But she was originally going to arrive later that day; this flight that she was on was a last-minute booking because she wanted to get to Laura earlier. Hence the lack of business class.

“Sure, but I’d never hear the end of it from you.”

Laura pouted. “Am I dragging you down?” she asked.

“Never.” Carmilla gave her a peck on the cheek. “You keep me humble, Hollis.”

Laura looked into Carmilla’s eyes and her heart fluttered at the warmth she found. A warmth that had always been there, even in their earliest days. She discovered that in Europe, especially in Austria, Carmilla had a reputation for being a distant and world-weary actress despite her relative youth. Laura could definitely see some truth in that, based on the Carmilla she met that night two years ago. But the Carmilla she got to know? Laura couldn’t imagine anyone who was more thoughtful and attentive. She leaned in and kissed her, because she couldn’t get enough. “I love you,” she told her as she pulled away, and pressed their foreheads together.

“I love you too,” Carmilla said, smiling.

She pushed lightly on Carmilla’s shoulder. “Go brush your teeth, and then we can sleep,” she said. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

“Oh, you’re telling me,” Carmilla groaned as she lay back on the pillows. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Do we really have to go to that gala?”

“Why are you asking me? I’m not your manager,” Laura joked.

“That’s true. She’s way more demanding.”

“At least she’s not Lilita Morgan,” Laura said.

“Well, that’s true as well,” Carmilla agreed. “You know how I feel about parties, though.”

Carmilla was going to be at TIFF to promote her film, and she was bringing Laura as her date to one of the galas. Her manager had negotiated with her that she was to attend _one_ of the parties as an opportunity to network. She insisted that she was only going to do it if Laura would accompany her. And so, because of Laura’s work, they couldn’t attend an event on a school night. But Friday nights were always when the bigger parties at TIFF were held, and Carmilla _hated_ big parties.

“I know,” Laura said. “But at least afterwards, you only have to attend that screening and Q&A on Monday, and then we’ve got three weeks together.”

“But you’re working,” Carmilla said.

“I’m home every night, and there’s weekends,” Laura said. She noticed the sadness in Carmilla’s expression. “Come on, Carm,” she said. “We’re making this work, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Carmilla nodded. “We are.”

The one thing Laura noticed—but would prefer to ignore—was that they avoided talking about what could happen beyond their current situation. Teaching meant that Laura was full on from the end of August until the end of May, with breaks here and there. On the other hand, Carmilla probably only worked, at most, eight months out of the year, but she worked in bursts of between six weeks to three months, depending on the project. They made time when they could, and travelled where possible, but they hadn’t talked about what would happen if—no, _when_ —they started wanting more.

It was three o’clock in the morning. “Okay, then,” Laura said, as cheerfully as she could. “Toothbrush, and then bed. Come on!”

* * *

If she hadn’t realised it already, Carmilla believed that agreeing to join Laura and her father for Christmas in Manitoba was the surest indication that she was deeply in love. She couldn’t speak for the rest of the province—though she suspected that it was a norm and somewhat of a cultural joke—but not even the darkest winter in the Nordic crime shows could compare to the winter in Laura’s hometown. According to Sherman, the roads to Winnipeg were snowed in for five days just the week before Christmas, right after a midnight blizzard that lasted for six hours. Thankfully, the weather seemed to have let up in time for the holidays.

Carmilla and Laura arrived on the evening of the 23rd of December. The following day, they prepared for the town’s annual Christmas Eve celebration, which involved singing carols in the community hall, followed by a giant feast consisting of dishes contributed by each family. Laura and her dad brought cauliflower and broccoli cheese, along with a self-saucing chocolate pudding for dessert. Carmilla found herself enjoying the night.

The food was delicious and plentiful, the people didn’t take themselves too seriously, and hell, they might have even convinced Carmilla to sing along to a carol or two. They arrived home late that night full, tipsy, and happy. With the exception of the previous year’s Christmas in Vienna with Laura, Carmilla couldn’t remember the last time the holidays brought her warmth instead of dread.

Carmilla knew that Laura and Sherman were the kind of people who put two hundred percent effort into everything, but the holidays brought that on another level. The Hollises took Christmas _very_ seriously. Sherman woke them up early on Christmas morning—well, Carmilla thought that nine o’clock was early—and they opened presents. Carmilla got Sherman a sweater from Norway, along with a limited edition Duran Duran LP on vinyl. For Laura, she got Zadie Smith’s latest essay collection, and a handmade leather case for her laptop. Sherman and Laura exchanged presents, too. Laura gave Sherman a new pair of boots and a rugged case for his phone, and Sherman gave Laura a new lesbian YA novel and, inexplicably, an industrial flashlight.

In turn, Carmilla received a CD of Tobias Jesso Jr’s debut album and a woollen hat—the Hollises kept calling it a “toque”—from Sherman, and a remastered DVD of _Adam’s Rib_ and a beautiful necklace from Laura.

After the presents were opened, Sherman made French toast, which they ate with powdered sugar and maple syrup. And that wasn’t even the end of it. The rest of the day they spent preparing the traditional Hollis Christmas dinner—roast beef and vegetables, gravy, salad, and for dessert, self-saucing chocolate pudding with vanilla ice cream.

“Laura, can you pass me the gravy, please?” Carmilla asked, midway through dinner.

Laura shot Sherman a knowing look, before handing Carmilla the gravy boat. Father and daughter watched as Carmilla practically drowned her meat and vegetables in gravy.

“What?” Carmilla shrugged. “It’s delicious.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Sherman said. “I’ve been making that gravy for _years_.”

“I keep telling Dad that he should bottle it and put it in stores,” Laura said.

Sherman shook his head vehemently. “That just defeats the point, doesn’t it? The point is that this gravy is so _lovingly_ homemade,” he said. “That’s why it tastes the way it does.”

“That, and you –”

“Now, sweetheart,” Sherman cut her off, “don’t go giving away _all_ my secrets!”

Carmilla laughed. “Well, everything on this table is excellent, Sherman. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. And thank you for the wine, it’s much appreciated.” Sherman took a sip. It was wine that Carmilla had brought over from Austria. “Tell me, Carmilla, your family isn’t missing you this time of year, are they?”

“Well, uh…” Carmilla felt Laura’s foot gently run along her shin. She made eye contact with Laura, who gave her a small, reassuring smile. “Uh, we don’t really do Christmas.”

“Not even a dinner?” Sherman asked.

“It’s more a lunch… buffet… thing, on Christmas day,” Carmilla said. “Basically, the household staff cook and we kind of pick at it until everyone has more pressing matters to attend to.” These pressing matters usually turned up about an hour and a half into the meal.

“Oh.” Sherman was beginning to look as if he regretted asking the question.

“My parents _do_ throw a Christmas Eve party at our house, though, with their friends and people in their circle,” Carmilla added. These parties weren’t much different to the family lunches, except for the presence of even more insufferable wealthy people, and her parents had made their children’s attendance optional for the last few years. Carmilla couldn’t even remember the last time she went to one.

“Remind me again, Carmilla, what the people in your family do?” Sherman said.

Carmilla drank some of her wine. It was damn good wine. She drank some more, then dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “My father is the CEO of a logistics company that specialises in moving agricultural and horticultural products around central Europe, and my mother used to be a banker but now she’s a private financial adviser to rich European housewives,” she said. “And I have a little brother, Rolf. Though he’s not so little anymore. He’s twenty-three and is interning at CERN while he does his masters in physics over in Switzerland. He’s a nice boy, we’re just not very close.” Rolf had emailed to tell her that he wasn’t coming home for Christmas either. Their parents were distant workaholics, and hadn’t even seemed to notice that their children couldn’t stand being around them anymore.

“Oh, all right. That sounds,” Sherman cleared his throat, “complicated.”

“It is, but I’d much rather be here, Sherman, really,” Carmilla said. “This has probably been my favourite Christmas.” She caught Laura’s eye again. Laura was smiling, her eyes sparkling as she regarded Carmilla affectionately. Of course, Carmilla couldn’t resist grinning back at her.

Later that night, after dessert and cups of tea, they were snuggled up in Laura’s bed. Carmilla’s got her head tucked into Laura’s shoulder, and an arm and a leg thrown over Laura’s body.

Laura’s brows were furrowed, the way they always were when she was deep in thought.

“What are you thinking about?” Carmilla asked quietly.

“I– I should have told Dad about your family, in advance, you know? I don’t know how we got this far without him asking,” Laura said. “I mean, there was New York, and that time we came over during mid-winter break… He never asked then. It didn’t even cross my mind that he would ask now.”

“I think he’s the kind of man who knows the right time to ask the right questions,” Carmilla said.

“I clearly did not inherit that from him,” Laura said, with a wry chuckle. “I still want to apologise, though.”

“Don’t,”  Carmilla said. “I didn’t share anything I was uncomfortable sharing.”

“You sure?” Laura asked.

“I’m sure.”

“Is this really your favourite Christmas?”

Carmilla chuckled. “Honestly? It really is,” she said. “Although, this weather makes me feel like I’m in _The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo_. The first movie, when Blomkvist had to go up to –”

“Hedestad,” Laura completed for her. “Which is a _fictional_ town.”

“Still,” Carmilla said. “You sure you don’t have creepy murderers in this town? Ones that look like Stellan Skarsgård?”

“Are we talking about the same _The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo_ film?” Laura asked. “Because he wasn’t in the one I was talking about.”

“Oh, you’re talking about the Swedish version…”

“Yes, the one without the Daniel Craig stunt-cast.”

“Okay, he’s a stunt-cast, but you have to admit that Robin Wright was a perfect Erika,” Carmilla said.

“Oh, definitely, that was an inspired bit of casting. However, the Swedish version is still the better version, no arguments there,” Laura said.

“Yes, I agree,” Carmilla said. “So, you didn’t answer my question, Laura. Any creepy murderers here?”

“No,” Laura said. “Just Austrians who suck up to their girlfriend’s father.”

“Whoa there. I am not _sucking up_ ,” Carmilla said. “Why would I be sucking up to your dad? Don’t you think we have a good relationship already?”

“You got him a _Duran Duran_ LP without making him feel like a lame loser—which Duran Duran fans definitely are, by the way! And then you drown your plate in gravy, and then you proceeded to tell him that this is your favourite Christmas,” Laura said.

“Does it really blow your mind that much that I’m being completely truthful?” Carmilla asked.

Laura narrowed her eyes. “Well, Carmilla Karnstein, if I didn’t know any better…”

“Say I am sucking up,” Carmilla said. “Shouldn’t it be to you? Or at least for your benefit?” She slid her hand under Laura’s t-shirt and worked her fingers up to the underside of Laura’s breast. She enjoyed Laura’s sharp intake of breath.

“You did all those things for my dad so you wouldn’t –” Laura gasped as Carmilla rolled her nipple between her thumb and index finger.

“Wouldn’t what?”

“Wouldn’t feel bad about having sex with his daughter in his house.”

“It’s not like it’d be his daughter’s first time having sex under this roof. And besides, you’re an adult now. I’m sure he’s already accepted it,” Carmilla said. She moved her hand to Laura’s other breast, causing Laura to shudder. “But yeah, let’s say I was sucking up because of that… Would that be so bad?”

Laura’s hand tugged on the fabric of Carmilla’s tank top, and she shifted her other arm from underneath Carmilla, guiding Carmilla on top of her. Her newly liberated hand snaked its way into Carmilla’s hair as she pulled her closer for an open-mouthed kiss. “No,” she murmured against Carmilla’s mouth. “It wouldn’t be bad at all.”

“That’s what I thought,” Carmilla said, before kissing Laura again.

* * *

They spent another two days in Laura’s hometown before flying back to Toronto in time for New Year’s Eve. That evening was spent with Laura’s colleagues at Perry’s, but Laura and Carmilla left long before the countdown so they could ring in the new year back at Laura’s apartment. They soon realised it was a crazy idea to cross the city at ten-thirty on New Year’s Eve, when the rest of the city was the thick of partying, but they got home eventually, with time to spare.

Still tipsy from Perry’s, and giggly from their adventure across town, they fumbled at each other’s clothes as they fell into bed. They missed the countdown, but Laura hopped out of bed at around one o’clock—when they seemed to have exhausted each other—to pop open a bottle of champagne.

“You know what?” Carmilla asked, as she took the flute of champagne that Laura offered to her. “I could do with some of that blueberry pie as well.”

Laura laughed. “Okay, I will heat some up.” She reached for a baggy hoodie that was hanging on her footboard.

“Hey, stay naked,” Carmilla insisted.

Laura didn’t listen to her. She pulled the hoodie over her head. “While you have the pleasure of sipping champagne under the very warm duvet, I have to stand in the kitchen for a minute getting your blueberry pie,” she told Carmilla. “It’s cold out there.”

“All right, but it comes off as soon as you get back here,” Carmilla said.

“You know it.” Laura winked at her before walking out of the bedroom.

The next couple of days could have been spent in a blissed out state if Carmilla wasn’t preparing to leave again. Laura didn’t have to go back to work until the second week of January, but Carmilla had to return to Vienna as soon as possible. The TV series she had filmed last spring was premiering in February, and there was still some work to be done—promotional material, along with last-minute pieces of ADR. Laura didn’t understand much about the inner workings of the television world, but surely they didn’t need things to be up and running so soon after Christmas?

But this wasn’t even the only thing that Carmilla had been trying to sort out.

Laura was driving them back to her apartment from the supermarket. They had taken a detour via their favourite dumpling place in Chinatown to grab dinner. At a red light, Laura glanced over at Carmilla, who was fussing over her phone. Sighing, Laura turned her attention back to the road.

Carmilla had been fielding calls and messages from Vienna for most of the day, and though she insisted on accompanying Laura to the supermarket, she wasn’t much help there either. “Oh fuck,” she muttered. “I’m running out of battery.” She glanced down at Laura’s centre console. “Where’s your cord?”

“Glovebox,” Laura said. “Don’t sweat it, Carm, we’ll be home in literally two minutes.”

Carmilla’s hand was already hovering over the glovebox’s latch. She hesitated for a second, and then withdrew it. “I guess you’re right.” She let go of her phone, letting it rest idly on her lap. She sighed. “I’m sorry, babe. My manager just wants my availabilities so she can arrange photoshoots and interviews…”

“Huh.” Laura glanced at the clock on her dashboard. “Isn’t it the middle of the night there?”

“It is, but –”

“No, I get it.” The light turned green and Laura stepped on the accelerator. It was another right turn until they were finally on her street. She pulled into her driveway and killed the engine. “At least help me unload the groceries.”

“Of course.” Carmilla dropped her phone into her jacket pocket, got out of the car, and walked around to open the back.

Once the groceries were put away, Laura started setting the table for dinner. She got out the plates and glasses, laid out the chopsticks, and poured soy sauce with a pinch of chilli flakes in a small dish. She looked up and saw that Carmilla was sitting on the edge of the couch, frowning at the screen of her phone, which was already plugged into her charger. “Carm, baby,” Laura tried hard not sound exasperated, “tell your manager to go to sleep.”

“It’s not my manager, it’s a producer.” Carmilla didn’t even bother looking up from her phone.

“Doesn’t anyone in the Austrian film industry know what ‘the holidays’ mean?” Laura asked. “You’d think they’d still be recovering from their benders.”

“Oh, some of them are, and that’s why I’m not talking to them,” Carmilla said. “By the way, this producer is in New York right now, so same timezone. We’re talking about meeting up once we’re both back in Vienna. He said he’s found something new that I could be interested in.”

“Exciting.”

“Isn’t it? I need to get on another project, you know, and I’m used to being picky, but I realise it can’t be that way anymore. Still, I don’t want to sign onto something just for the sake of it” Carmilla seemed oblivious to Laura’s increasingly unamused and uninterested tone.

“Yeah, I get that.” Laura really didn’t mean to be short with Carmilla; she understood how precarious the acting profession was. Though Carmilla’s last film was an international success—at least in the independent circles—splitting from Lilita Morgan meant that it was still _that_ much harder to find regular work. Her new manager was good, but she didn’t possess the clout Lilita did. Carmilla was still adjusting to that, and in turn, so was Laura.

She cleared her throat. “Carm, uh, let’s eat?” She gestured at the dining table, where the dumplings were steaming.

“Oh yeah, sure,” Carmilla said. She put her phone down and joined Laura. “I’m sorry I’ve been all over the place today.”

Laura didn’t meet her eyes. “I know,” she said.

The next morning, Laura woke up to an empty bed. She emerged from her bedroom to see Carmilla seated at the dining table, jabbing at her phone as she spoke to someone in German on her iPad. Her eyes lit up when she saw Laura.

“Morning,” she said, in English.

“Morning,” Laura said. She glanced at the mug by the iPad. “Coffee?”

“In the pot,” Carmilla said, before switching back to German.

Laura was already putting breakfast dishes away by the time Carmilla finished with her video call. “Was that the producer?” she asked.

“No, that was Mattie,” Carmilla said. “She wanted me to listen to her pitch about the new film she’s writing and possibly directing, if she gets the funding.” Her phone beeped. “And that’s probably the screenplay.” She tapped the screen. “Oh no, it’s my manager’s assistant confirming my wardrobe appointments for a photoshoot.”

Something snapped within Laura. Maybe it was because she just had breakfast next to Carmilla— _with_ her!—but she might as well had been alone because Carmilla was _too_ busy. Or maybe it was because she only had one day left with Carmilla and she would like them to spend it away from their phones. Maybe it was because of both of those things, and the fact that Carmilla seemed uncharacteristically oblivious of the effect of her actions.

“This is getting a little ridiculous, isn’t it?” Laura said, in a voice as measured as she could muster.

Carmilla’s eyes widened in confused. “What is?”

“Do you realise that we’re not going to see each other until mid-winter break, and then you’ll be leaving again to shoot your new TV show?” Laura braced her hands against the kitchen counter, her shoulders heavy and her head spinning. “You’re flying out tomorrow to go back to work, but you couldn’t even wait until then.”

“Laura –”

“Last time you were here, do you remember? Wait, not Thanksgiving, but the time before that,” Laura started. “When you were here for TIFF, then stayed on after it to spend time with me. Except you were on your phone a lot, you were always waiting for an email or whatever. I just excused it because you did come for TIFF, which technically made it a work thing… I just thought that –”

“That’s not fair, Laura,” Carmilla interrupted. “You were working too!”

“Because I _had_ to! But once I come through the door in the afternoons, did I do any more work than required?” Laura demanded. “But Carmilla, _you_ were on vacation! You didn’t have to work!”

“I always have to work!” Carmilla burst out. She had gotten out of her seat at this point. “You know what it’s been like since I got a new manager. I’m not Lilita Morgan’s golden girl anymore. I can’t just get roles the way I used to.”

“So you keep telling me.”

“This is my career, Laura,” Carmilla said. “I thought you’d understand that.”

“I do, Carm, but I just feel like,” Laura sighed, “I feel like the way you’re going about it is getting in the way of our relationship.”

Carmilla raised an eyebrow. “The way I’m going about it?”

“I’m just saying, I thought I was the workaholic here.” Laura shrugged.

“Part of the reason why I wanted to get rid of Lilita was because I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to have my own life if she was the one managing my career,” Carmilla said. “I’m happier now, but you know, everything’s changed for me. I had at least two projects a year when I was with Lilita. I’m only realising how hard it is to actually get two projects that I really believe in.”

“Still, Carmilla… couldn’t it wait? You’ll be in Vienna the day after tomorrow. You’re supposed to be still here with me now.” They were going around in circles.

“We had a good couple of weeks, Laura,” Carmilla said. “Look, I’m sorry that I’ve been so occupied with work. You’re right, I should be making the most of my time with you. I’ll be more mindful of that next time. But,” Carmilla bit her lip, “I thought it was clear that this is what we signed up for when we got together.”

“Wow.” Laura exhaled sharply. She appreciated Carmilla’s apology, but not so much the subsequent remark. She was still angry, still fed up, and she wasn’t the kind of person to be diffused easily. “So this is how it’s always going to be? We’re just gonna see each other when we can? And then when we can’t, we just busy ourselves with our careers? What makes this different from before?”

Carmilla recoiled at the question. “What the fuck? I can’t believe you’d say something so unfair, Laura.” She took a moment to collect herself. “The difference is from before is that we’re in love with each other. I thought that’s been established.”

“If we were really in love with each other, we’d have found a way to make this work better than it is,” Laura retorted.

“Well.” Carmilla stood up straight, and her expression hardened. “I don’t see you starting, so maybe we’re not as in love with each other as I thought.”

The words hit Laura like a slap to the face. She swallowed the lump in her throat and willed herself not to surrender to the pricking sensation at the back of her eyes. “Is that what you think then?” she asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” Carmilla said. “I didn’t even think we had a problem.”

“You know, we never had this issue when it was just sex.” Laura moved away from the kitchen counter and began to head towards her bedroom. She couldn’t bear to look at Carmilla anymore.

Carmilla slept on the couch that night, and the following morning, Laura drove her to the airport in silence. They hugged tightly for a few seconds before Carmilla walked through the airport doors.

As soon as Laura got back to her apartment, she received a text from Carmilla: _Just got through immigration. I’m sorry. We fucked that one up, huh? But hey, that was our first fight. Can we consider that a milestone?_

And Laura couldn’t help but laugh. Despite everything, she loved Carmilla, and she couldn’t see that changing anytime soon.

* * *

“You look tired, darling,” Mattie told Carmilla over lunch at their favourite Viennese restaurant.

“I wouldn’t look this tired if I wasn’t reading and editing your screenplay, Mattie,” Carmilla said.

Mattie laughed. “Nobody’s telling you that you have to do that at night,” she fired back. “Unless you’re staying up late anyway for a certain geography teacher from Canada…”

“Laura teaches history, actually.” Carmilla took a bite of her lunch. “But no, I’m not staying up because of her. Not directly, anyway.”

“How come?”

Carmilla sighed. “We had a big fight before I left Toronto,” she said. Though they had technically patched things up, with a long conversation over video call two days after Carmilla arrived in Vienna, the things that were said still weighed heavily in her mind.

“Oh, Carm, that was three weeks ago! Why didn’t you say anything?” Mattie asked.

Carmilla shrugged. “We made up, but it’s still a bit…” she trailed off.

“Complicated?”

“That’s a good word for it.” Carmilla sighed again. She’d been doing that a lot whenever she thought of Laura and their relationship. “I’m not sure what to do, Mattie. I’m an actress here, she’s a teacher there, and I don’t think either of us want that to change.”

“Does it have to change?” Mattie asked.

“If we really want to commit to each other, yes,” Carmilla said. Their relationship wasn’t going to get serious under the current circumstances. She knew that both her and Laura were the kind of people to value attentiveness in a relationship. They liked taking care of each other. She couldn’t imagine being with Laura and not being able to take care of her when she needed it.

“You know you can’t just leave Austria. Not when you’ve been doing so well here,” Mattie said.

“I know that.” The Canadian film scene had a strong acting union, and even if it didn’t, it was still very insular, like all the other film scenes across the world. It was hard for outsiders to break in, and Carmilla already broke into Austria. She didn’t want to start from scratch again.

Mattie stared hard at her. “Have you considered quitting acting and doing something else?”

“What?” Carmilla nearly laughed. “Quit acting? And do what? It’s the only thing I’ve ever loved doing. And I’ve been doing it so long that it’s the only thing I know how to do.”

“What do you love more?” Mattie asked. “Acting or Laura?”

Carmilla’s stomach sank. “I don’t want it to be one or the other, Mattie.”

“Oh, darling, I don’t know,” Mattie said. “I’ve run out of suggestions.”

And Carmilla had run out of ideas.

Later that afternoon, she set aside Mattie’s screenplay—which she had been annotating—and picked up her phone. She had an unread message from Laura. _Hi, hope you had a good Saturday. I have something to tell you_ , it read.

For some reason, Carmilla’s palms had gone clammy. She saw that Laura was online, so she keyed in a reply: _What is it?_

 _Laura Hollis is typing…_ the app informed her.

“Come on, Laura,” Carmilla muttered.

_I was thinking… I could try to get a job at an international school in Vienna. I did a bit of research today and if there are any openings, I don’t think it would hurt for me to apply._

* * *

The advantage of being a Canada-trained teacher—especially an Ontario-trained one—was that they were seen as an asset by international schools across the world. That was what Laura discovered when she considered the possibility of teaching in Austria.

She didn’t choose teaching as a career because of its relatively straightforward transferability across countries. She chose it because it was something she knew she could keep doing for a long time. Sure, the workload was oftentimes insane, and the salary was silly for the responsibility they were saddled with, but Laura didn’t regret it. And being able to teach in other countries? That turned out to be a plus. Nineteen-year-old Laura may not have known that she was someday going to fall in love with a European actress, but nearly-twenty-eight-year-old Laura was prepared to thank her for her decision to pursue her teaching certification after undergrad.

When she told Carmilla about the idea, she seemed surprised. Carmilla couldn’t believe that Laura was willing to leave Canada behind. Canada was where her friends were. Where her dad lived. Where she grew up. “Vienna’s pretty for the tourists, but it can be a whole new planet if you actually want to live and work here,” Carmilla told her in a video call.

“I did move from the provinces to _Toronto_ when I was eighteen, Carm. You know they might as well be two different countries,” Laura said. “I know Vienna is going to be a culture shock, but it’s not like I haven’t done it before.”

“I don’t want you to do this just for me,” Carmilla said.

Laura shook her head. “I’ve thought about it, okay? I’m still not a hundred percent sure that I want to move to Vienna, but I’m pretty sure that if I do decide to move, it’ll be because of _us_ , and because of me, too,” she said. “Do you know how valuable a stint in an international school is nowadays?”

“I imagine it would be very valuable,” Carmilla conceded. “Laura, it’s not that I don’t want you to be where I am. I’m just– I’m still–” she hesitated, “I don’t want us to be doing a big thing badly.”

“We don’t have to hash out every detail now. I don’t think the jobs for next year will be coming out until spring anyway,” Laura said. Even through the pixelated screen, she could tell how worried Carmilla looked. “I just wanted to tell you now so we can both think about it… And maybe prepare for it, you know?”

“Prepare?” Carmilla asked.

Laura bit her lip. “Well, I’d imagine we’d be moving in together,” she said. “Right?” She didn’t want to assume, but she didn’t really think that she was going to Vienna just to be living apart from Carmilla.

To her surprise, Carmilla laughed. “What makes you think we have something to prepare for? Are you secretly a horrible person to live with?”

“I think I’m a great person to live with, thank you very much! And hey, moving in together is a big deal,” Laura said. “You’ll have to split chores and all that.”

“And what makes you think I do chores, cupcake?” Carmilla teased.

“You do them well enough when you’re here with me.”

“Maybe that was to impress you.”

Laura laughed. “So moving in together would shatter the fantasy then?” she joked.

“Probably, but I’d like to think you’d still love me anyway,” Carmilla said.

That warmed Laura’s heart. Carmilla had a way with words sometimes. “I sure will,” she said. “You know I wouldn’t consider moving to Vienna for someone I’m not serious about. Like, I know what to do with my life. And,” she paused, “I know who I want to be with.”

Carmilla’s face broke out into a grin. “Well, we’re not getting any younger, are we?”

“That we aren’t,” Laura said. “But as I said, this isn’t something we have to completely figure out now… I just know what I’m certain of.”

“Me too.”

“Good.” Laura watched as Carmilla attempted to stifle a yawn. It was nearly two AM in Vienna. “Carm, it’s late. You should go to bed.”

“I should,” Carmilla said. “Hey, two weeks until I see you again.”

“That’s still so long! I miss you,” Laura said. Carmilla was going to arrive three days before mid-winter break and staying for two weeks. They weren’t leaving Toronto, but Laura’s dad was going to visit them for a few days later that week.

“I miss you, too,” Carmilla said. “Good night, Laura.”

“Good night, Carm.”

* * *

Carmilla was on set grabbing a bite between shooting her scenes when her phone alerted her to a notification. She put her sandwich down on the paper plate, wiped her hand on a paper towel, and tapped the screen to check the notification. It was a message from Laura.

_I just got an email from that school I had an interview with the other day. They’re offering me the job!_

Carmilla almost jumped out of her chair, but then looked around and remembered that she was in the middle of a busy backlot. She swiped her hand across the paper towel again, then picked up her phone to respond. _Wow, that’s amazing! When do you they need you here by?_ She pressed Send.

Laura’s reply came less than a minute later: _Last week of July. I was thinking… I’ll pack up, move out of this place the first week over the summer and live with my dad until everything’s sorted for me to get to Vienna._

 _Of course, that makes sense_ , Carmilla typed. _When does your year finish? I could schedule a flight there and help you with the move._

 _Are you sure? You don’t have to come. I’ve got a lot of people who could help me_ , was Laura’s reply. _As long as you’re the one helping me getting settled in Vienna, I couldn’t ask for anything more_.

Carmilla smiled. _You know I’ll help you when you get here,_ she typed. _But my next project doesn’t start until September and I’ve got some time on my hands. And I’d love to see Sherman and everyone before we go to Vienna._

 _And start the rest of our lives?_ Laura punctuated this message with a winky face, but it made Carmilla’s heart jump nonetheless.

* * *

Moving to Vienna was smoother than Laura expected, and for that, she counted herself lucky. The people at the school helped her with most of the documentation she needed. By mid-June, she had her visa, and the school even managed to give her a modest relocation grant.

When she arrived at Carmilla’s townhouse, Carmilla told her not to bother unpacking her boxes. She was only renting the townhouse, and the contract was going to expire in a month’s time. When Laura asked her where they were going to live, she replied: “I was thinking that you and I could go looking for a house.”

Initially, Laura was confused. “Why? What’s wrong with this one?” The townhouse was just the right size for the two of them, and sure, they’d have to settle for parking on the street, but Laura didn’t think that was a dealbreaker.

“I want to buy a house. For us,” Carmilla said.

“I can’t afford a house,” Laura said.

“I have a trust fund, remember?” When Carmilla turned twenty, the trust fund that her parents had kept for her became available to her. Carmilla, however, wanted to live by her own means. She rarely dipped into the trust fund, often using it to supplement travel expenses when she was in between projects. And every month, it continued to grow because of interest.

“Carm, you can’t just –” Laura began to protest.

“Laura, that’s what it’s there for,” Carmilla said. “I never felt the need to buy my own place before because I wasn’t here half the time anyway. I mean, look.” She gestured at her sparsely decorated living room. “I’ve been renting this place for four years and I could count the number of times I used the oven. And that’s a _nice_ oven.”

Laura smirked. “Don’t you suck at baking anyway?”

“I do, but my point is… I want us to live somewhere where we can make it ours,” Carmilla said.

“I feel like this is something we should go halves on,” Laura said.

“Laura.” Carmilla took Laura’s hands in hers. “We will split the finances evenly, all right? But not for the house. I’ll get the house. That’s what the trust fund is for. And then everything else that comes after, we’ll pay equally. Promise.”

Laura took the hint that this was not something Carmilla would want to discuss in detail right at that moment. So she pulled her into a hug. “Okay,” she said. “You’re getting us a house.”

It took them exactly seventeen days to find the perfect place. It was a renovated maisonette that gave Laura a twenty-minute commute to work. They fell in love with it instantly. They moved in the week before Laura was due to report at her new school.

Working at an international school required a huge adjustment of what Laura knew about teaching, and not just on the curriculum front. The majority of Laura’s students were from other English-speaking countries, such as the United Kingdom and the United States, and there were also quite a few from Asian countries. And all of them had fairly well-off or influential parents. Furthermore, the school culture was a lot more informal than it was at her old school in Toronto. The teachers could wear casual outfits, for one thing. And the students addressed them by their first name. Laura couldn’t forget the impulse she had to discipline the weedy fourteen-year-old Californian boy who put his hand up to ask a question. He began with, “Hey Laura?”

But Laura eventually got accustomed to the way the school ran, and she enjoyed it. She loved the change of scene, and she grew to love the new culture. Months passed and she realised that she had found a place for herself in the school. Her colleagues were friendly and helpful. The kids were a bit more stuck-up than her students back in Canada, but they were just as varied—from the lazy but bright kids, to the Type A perfectionists, to the slackers who thought they all had the good jokes… It seemed that no matter where she was in the world, there was still not one dull day in teaching.

Still, she was prone to homesickness. Vienna lacked the sharp lines and modernism of Toronto, and it wasn’t nearly as multicultural. She often found herself craving her favourite chicken enchiladas, or wanting a box of Timbits. There were so many things she hadn’t discovered in Vienna, and she was looking forward to getting to know them, but there was still no place like Toronto. It had been home to her for nearly ten years. Sometimes she still caught herself referring to it as such.

And of course, she loved that at the end of the day, she got to go home to the house she shared with Carmilla. Most days, she arrived before Carmilla did, and sometimes Carmilla would come home when she was already fast asleep. Nevertheless, they got to spend as much time as they could with each other, without the distance and the time difference to separate them.

Laura got home later than usual one evening, because of parent-teacher conferences at school. Exhausted, and a bit irritated at some of the parents she had the misfortune of speaking to that night, she walked through the door just wanting a long, hot shower and a cup of hot chocolate.

Instead, she was greeted with the sight of Carmilla curled up on the living room couch, reading a book. An 80s New Wave track—Laura still couldn’t wrap her head around the fact Carmilla and her dad had the same music taste—played quietly from the speakers. Carmilla looked up at her, and a smile broke out on her face. “Hey,” she said.

“Hi,” Laura managed to say. She nudged the door shut with her foot. She kicked off her shoes and dropped her bag on the floor next to them. “You had dinner yet?”

“Yup.” Carmilla shut the book she was reading. “I made cookies,” she told Laura, almost shyly.

“You did?” Laura took a sniff. Yup, there were definitely cookies. The chocolate chip kind. “And they aren’t burnt?”

“I followed a recipe to the letter,” Carmilla said. She patted the space next to her on the couch. “Come here, put your feet up. I’ll get you the cookies. Do you want me to make you some hot chocolate as well?”

Laura plopped down on the couch and instinctively snuggled into Carmilla’s side. She buried her face in Carmilla’s neck and inhaled deeply. Almost instantly, she began to relax. She wrapped an arm around Carmilla’s torso.

Carmilla seemed a little taken aback. “Want to talk about it?” she asked.

Laura took another deep breath. “I’ve just had a long day, that’s all,” she said.

“Let me get you those cookies.” Carmilla made a move to wriggle out of Laura’s grasp, only to have Laura tighten her hold. “Laura.”

“Stay here a bit,” Laura said.

“It’s getting late.”

“It’s never too late for cookies.”

“Okay, you’re right,” Carmilla said. She began to play with Laura’s hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And that was when Laura realised—neither was she. This was home, and her and Carmilla were making it together.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, both "Let's Start Right Now" and this fic got their titles from One Direction songs. I may not seem like a One Direction fangirl, but start a conversation with me and you'll soon find out how big a fan I am. I've always held the belief that "Perfect" and "Home" were mirror songs of each other—they even show up on the same EP—and while "Perfect" inspired the celebrity AU idea, the Hollstein relationship in the fic began to resemble "Home" more.
> 
> I know I left "Let's Start Right Now" pretty open, so I thought I'd write something for the end of the year. It's been a lot of fun talking to everyone about the fic and how the characters live within it. I hope to get more of your excited messages and insightful comments. Have a good rest of the year, wherever you are.


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